David Kanzeg talked with John Martin,
former life-long resident of Leadville, Colorado. Mr. Martin, whose
family operated a coal hauling business, remembered his mother and
Baby Doe Tabor reading tea leaves in their family kitchen when he
was a young man. Here he talks of Baby Doe's death, and of his memories
of seeing her around town. Mr. Martin was interviewed in his daughter's
home in Columbia, Missouri in May of 1994.

Dave Kanzeg: You were in town when
they discovered she had died, right?

John Martin: Oh, yes. Very definitely.
I was very close friends of the people who run the undertaking parlor.

DK: I'm trying to remember his name.

JM: Corbett.

DK: Jim Corbett:

JM: Jim Corbett was mortician and
Andy Cassidy was just an employee and a young fella there. But uh…
he was the one who was with Corbett when they picked her up.

DK: What was that like in town when
they discovered her body? Was the news all over real quickly?

JM: No it wasn't over real quickly.
It uh…oh, it got out, you know, around the Avenue, but…course
we had a daily paper at that time. And it was out in the paper the
following morning. And that was the most of the extent of [it] at
that time.

DK: Do you have any memory of how
long before she died you would've...would've have been the last time
you saw her?

JM: Oh, no. I don't have that kind
of a memory. But, it was probably…it could've been a month.
Right in that neighborhood. 'Cause she used to come to the store.

DK: Zaitz's?

JM: Twice..twice..twice a month.
And she went to the Zaitz Mercantile Company store on Harrison Avenue,
instead of the one they owned down on Chestnut Street. And she got
the groceries there. And…

DK: She walked, didn't she?

JM: She walked. And uh…lot
of the times; most of the times my…uh…the boy that delivered
the groceries would drive her home with the groceries. That was a
standing order.

DK: Was she coherent when she was
around downtown? Did she…?

JM: No, uh…she, uh…

DK: I guess what….

JM: She just walked around the town
just like anybody that was in town. After seeing her the only thing
you noticed in the winter months was that she had her feet wrapped
in gunnysacks and tied. And uh…to say "gunnysacks"
that sounds unneat. But she had them tied and they were comfortable
and uh…'so what?!' She didn't have the money to buy anything
else. So, she shouldn't be criticized for something like that. No
way.

DK: There's an impression, though,
that she was…uh…how to put this delicately?…she
was…uh…a bit crazy by the end.

JM: Hell no! Hell no! I should say
not. No she wasn't. That's one of the things that the people...public…
said about her and uh…that's untrue, you know. They shouldn't
put out…uh…why should I call you "crazy" if
I see you walking up the street and uh…my not knowing you and
uh….you were wrapped up like she was wrapped up? Would I have
any reason to call you "crazy?"

DK: Uh uhm.

JM: And that's the part…oh
that…that used to grab my soul. That uh…you know, when
anybody said that she was crazy. She was intelligent. The woman. When
she'd sit there and uh…reading the tea leaves. And the things
that they would…she would come up with…in the fortune…and
she'd be reading mother's tea leaves. And then she'd read the leaves
in her cup and tell mother what was going on with her and her life…and
things. I wish that I'd had a tape recorder like that…that'd
be worth fortune to me.

David Kanzeg: You were in town when
they discovered she had died, right?

John Martin: Oh, yes. Very definitely.
I was very close friends of the people who run the undertaking parlor.

DK: I'm trying to remember his name.

JM: Corbett.

DK: Jim Corbett:

JM: Jim Corbett was mortician and
Andy Cassidy was just an employee and a young fella there. But uh…
he was the one who was with Corbett when they picked her up.

DK: What was that like in town when
they discovered her body? Was the news all over real quickly?

JM: No it wasn't over real quickly.
It uh…oh, it got out, you know, around the Avenue, but…course
we had a daily paper at that time. And it was out in the paper the
following morning. And that was the most of the extent of [it] at
that time.

DK: Do you have any memory of how
long before she died you would've...would've have been the last time
you saw her?

JM: Oh, no. I don't have that kind
of a memory. But, it was probably…it could've been a month.
Right in that neighborhood. 'Cause she used to come to the store.

DK: Zaitz's?

JM: Twice..twice..twice a month.
And she went to the Zaitz Mercantile Company store on Harrison Avenue,
instead of the one they owned down on Chestnut Street. And she got
the groceries there. And…

DK: She walked, didn't she?

JM: She walked. And uh…lot
of the times; most of the times my…uh…the boy that delivered
the groceries would drive her home with the groceries. That was a
standing order.

DK: Was she coherent when she was
around downtown? Did she…?

JM: No, uh…she, uh…

DK: I guess what….

JM: She just walked around the town
just like anybody that was in town. After seeing her the only thing
you noticed in the winter months was that she had her feet wrapped
in gunnysacks and tied. And uh…to say "gunnysacks"
that sounds unneat. But she had them tied and they were comfortable
and uh…'so what?!' She didn't have the money to buy anything
else. So, she shouldn't be criticized for something like that. No
way.

DK: There's an impression, though,
that she was…uh…how to put this delicately?…she
was…uh…a bit crazy by the end.

JM: Hell no! Hell no! I should say
not. No she wasn't. That's one of the things that the people...public…
said about her and uh…that's untrue, you know. They shouldn't
put out…uh…why should I call you "crazy" if
I see you walking up the street and uh…my not knowing you and
uh….you were wrapped up like she was wrapped up? Would I have
any reason to call you "crazy?"

DK: Uh uhm.

JM: And that's the part…oh
that…that used to grab my soul. That uh…you know, when
anybody said that she was crazy. She was intelligent. The woman. When
she'd sit there and uh…reading the tea leaves. And the things
that they would…she would come up with…in the fortune…and
she'd be reading mother's tea leaves. And then she'd read the leaves
in her cup and tell mother what was going on with her and her life…and
things. I wish that I'd had a tape recorder like that…that'd
be worth a fortune to me.